renewer
by goldendiie
Summary: Sarge leaves Radiator Springs a week before Lightning McQueen destroys the road.


Prompt: AU where Sarge ends up going out if business and having to leave RS a little less than a week prior to when Lightning comes along

 **renewer**

Sarge hated moving. He hated the boxes, all packed neatly into his trailer, and the empty, looming shelves that lined his shop. He hated the days on the road, and the scent of the motels he had stayed in along the way. He missed the New Mexico desert, and the quiet atmosphere of his small town. If he wasn't lying to himself, he'd even say he missed the roar of the radio next door, blasting some Jimi Hendrix song that he never thought he would mourn.

Sarge's store went out of business a few weeks before. He remembered the town's forlorn looks as he mentioned he would be leaving, and the sunny, sad days that followed. He moved to Toledo to be closer to what little family he had left, and lived in a hotel room as he tried to find a reasonably priced apartment to rent.

Homesickness rested in his engine, behind his eyes, in his wheels. Sarge called Home his first night there, sat in the corner of a saturated living room. "Fillmore's Taste In," the voice drawled from the other end. Sarge quickly hung up, and drew a few slow, shuddering breaths. He was surprised by how much it hurt to hear a voice from Home. He redialed the number, and waited silently.

"Fillmore's Taste In," The voice repeated. "If it's the same guy who called a few minutes ago–"

"Fillmore, it's me." Sarge interrupted.

"Oh. Hey man." Fillmore sighed. "How's it going?"

"I-it's going." Sarge said.

"You sound a little bummed, man."

Sarge grunted. "I'm not a fan of Ohio."

"Man, I said you could stay with me until you had enough money to–"

"I know, I know."

"You could always come back?" Fillmore sounded hopeful, maybe even excited.

"No, no," Sarge sighed. "It's too late for that."

. . . .

Sarge's phone rang the next morning. He picked it up after the first ring.

"Hello?" He said, hoarsely.

"Hello, Sarge." Sheriff's voice came through. He sounded tired, as if he had been up all night and then some

Sarge blinked in confusion. If the Sheriff was calling, then something must have been wrong.

"Did something happen?"

"Now, why would you think that?" Sheriff sat quiet for a minute, and Sarge could almost hear someone shouting from the other end. Sheriff continued: "Yes, something happened."

"Well, go on, what was it?"

Sheriff sighed. "Some kid came though, speeding, and singlehandedly tore up the road." More shouting. "Don't worry, though, we're makin' him fix it."

"The whole road?"

"Mhm. Turn on the news."

For a split second, Sarge thought that maybe, just maybe, his little town was on national news. He moved to the ancient television set on the other side of the room, and turned it on. There, on national news, was a shiny, confident-looking racecar.

"It's just some racecar kid." Sarge said.

"That's the boy who tore up the road."

"You can't hold him there." Sarge listened to the reporter talk, before saying: "It's a missing persons case. The whole country's out looking for him."

Sheriff hummed, seemingly unconcerned. "It's only until the road is fixed." More shouting ("I'ma be the first one on the new road!"). Sheriff sighed. "Oh, he's done it now. Talk to you later, Sergeant."

The line went dead before Sarge got a chance to reply. Before him, the reporter said something about the Dinoco 500, and a tie-breaking race. Sarge couldn't help but feel that the folks back home were in on something big.

. . . .

The phone rang two days later, at around one in the morning. Sarge dragged himself away from his sleeping mat, and answered it.

"Hello?" He said, annoyed and drowsy.

"Man, you won't believe it, that Lightning kid, he's–"

"Fillmore?" Sarge interrupts, more annoyed than he was before. "It's past midnight here."

"Sorry, dude, it's big news." Fillmore replied. "That Lightning McMea– McNe– whatever his name is– he's in love with Sally!"

Sarge stood, silent, for a moment. He sighed, exasperated, and said: "For once in your life, would you _please_ lay off of the smoking?"

"Naw, man, I heard 'em talkin about it just outside–"

"Who was talking about it?"

"Lightning and Mater!"

Sarge half-considered hanging up right then and there. Fillmore wasn't making any sense, and he thought the time would be better spent if he were asleep.

"Tell me what happened." Sarge said. "But slowly."

Fillmore repeated his story, though it hardly made any sense, even after elaboration. The most Sarge could understand in his half-asleep state was that Mater had somehow convinced himself that Lightning was in love with Sally. He didn't even know if there was any truth to it whatsoever.

"You get it, right, man?" Fillmore asked, once he had finished. "If Lightning stays, then the town will get more traffic–"

"You're not telling me you want him to stay?"

"Well, wouldn't you? It'd save the rest of us from going out of business, and maybe you would be able to come back."

Sarge grunted. As fanciful as it sounded, it was really unlikely that the racecar would stay anywhere near the town. "I'll come back if he decides to stay." He said.

"Sounds good, man." Fillmore's reply came. "I'll– uh– I hope we'll see you soon."

Sarge chuckled. "Goodnight, Fillmore."

He hung up and returned to his sleeping mat, but sleep didn't come. The thought of going Home made him restless, no matter how improbable it actually was.

. . . .

"McQueen! Is it true you've been in rehab?!"

"Did you have a nervous breakdown, McQueen?"

Sarge scoffed and turned the television set off. He knew that he wouldn't stay. Lightning had called the press, and had booked himself a one-way ticket away from Radiator Springs. Though, as confident as he was in the fact that he would probably never see the town again, one little, tiny, seemingly insignificant detail irked him.

The neon lights were on, in the top-down shot of the town.

. . . .

The phone rang once again, two afternoons later.

"I'm– uh– looking for a– er– Mister Sarge?"

The voice was that of a young man, vaguely southern. He sounded confused, and maybe a little scared.

Sarge was terribly confused as he replied: "You're talking to him, kid. What do you need?"

"Well, the folks down here in Radiator Springs want you to come back, they say you can open your store again, and uh–" There was a scuffle on the other end ("Just give me the phone, hon,"), and an older woman's voice came on. "Sorry about him, Sarge, he's a little jittery."

"Flo? Who was that?

"Just Lightning."

"Lightning? The racecar kid who broke the road?"

Flo laughed good-naturedly. "And fixed it."

"I'll be damned." Sarge muttered. "He stayed after all."

Flo hummed in affirmation, before saying: "You should come back. Your shop will take off in no time, especially since there's going to be more traffic on the road."

"More traffic?"

"You didn't know? Lightning said it would be on the news…" Flo trailed off, and continued. "He and Doc are putting together a racing museum, right here in Radiator Springs!"

Sarge laughed, partly out of joy, mostly out of disbelief. "A racing museum." He echoed. It all seemed too good to be true. He tried desperately to wake himself up from this dream, but his attempts proved to be useless. "I guess it's settled then."

. . . .

Sarge approached Radiator Springs with high spirits. There was traffic on route 66 that afternoon, and he knew exactly where most of it was going. He spotted the town as he rounded a curve in the valley, and desperately tried to stop himself from speeding the rest of the way there.

The first thing he saw when he entered the town was a shiny, apple-red racecar helping out at the Cozy Cone. The second thing he saw was an unkempt lawn as he was pulled off the road and into Fillmore's yard.

"You're back, man!" Fillmore gripped him by the tires, grinning. Sarge was pulled into a strange sort of hug, of which he squirmed out of.

Fillmore grinned at him, and said, "We didn't sell the land. You can just move right back in."

Sarge looked over the building next door, and distastefully said: "I take it nobody's been taking care of the yard?"

Fillmore just laughed, and drove with him further into town.

"Well, look who's back!" Flo called from the Cafe, where she was helping a few customers.

"What?" Lizze said from her shop across the street. "Did he go to war again?"

Sarge and Fillmore took their usual spot at the Cafe, where Sarge would catch up with everyone he had missed. Ramone had changed his paint job for the first time in quite some time, and donned a bright red instead of the purple and yellow that Sarge had last seen him in. Flo had hired on two new workers: a few young girls who followed Lightning McQueen around. Luigi and Guido had met a few Ferraris.

Before long, he was approached by the racecar that he had seen so much of on television. "I take it you're Sarge?" he asked.

"So this is the kid who tore up the road." Sarge remarked. "I've heard a lot about you, young man."

Lightning backed up a little, before saying dejectedly: "Yeah, but I'm really sorry about that, and–"

"I wasn't threatening you."

Lightning deflated, and laughed. "Oh."

Lightning joined the crowd at the cafe, and listened to Mater give his account of the tractor tipping incident. Sarge noticed that everyone seemed happier from when he left.

It was a different sort of content than he was used to when he returned to his shop that night. The shelves were empty and dusty, and the display case where he kept his medals before the move sat empty. He was content that things would go back to normal. Content that he could rest easy knowing his town was back on the map. Most of all, he was content to be home.

. . . .

 _This was simultaneously really fun and really painful to write. Title is from Colin Matthew's addition to Holst's "Planets" suite: "Pluto: The Renewer." See y'all on the flipside._


End file.
